


In and Out

by Curvynpervy



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Cheating, M/M, Marriage, Melancholy, basically it's really sad and unsatisfying, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 09:09:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1935111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curvynpervy/pseuds/Curvynpervy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The end is told before the journey. But often knowing that the end will hurt makes the journey sweeter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is loosely based on the movie "Blue Valentine"
> 
> Very loosely

He is 37.

The shirt he is wearing isn’t his, but it might as well be. There’s a plain gold ring on his finger that he used to touch and feel something akin to being zapped as one plugs in something. Now he twirls it simply to give his hands something to do.

“I’ll be home late tonight.” A voice calls from the bathroom. The blond man doesn’t look back, he knows what he’ll see and he’s seen the same sight thousands of times. Even the northern lights can get boring after a thousand glimpses.

Grantaire turns over onto his back and lets his limbs spread out on the empty bed.

“Did you hear me?” Enjolras stuck his head out the doorway, toothpaste still on his upper lip.

“Yes,” Grantaire responded in an annoyed tone. “I heard you.”

Enjolras thinks for a moment, trying to decide if that tone is worth a fight. He decides he doesn’t want to get into it with a long day ahead of him and finishes getting dressed.

Enjolras leaves with a less than half-hearted good-bye, leaving Grantaire with suffocating silence.

Grantaire sighs and sits up in the bed. He twirls the ring on his finger, remembering back when they didn’t resent each other’s existence. He gets up and walks out into the kitchen, finding it still in a state of disarray from Enjolras’s breakfast. He wants to say something in an annoyed tone again, but there’s no one around to hear it. So instead he gruffly picks up after his husband, putting a pan in the sink and a plate in the dishwasher. He checked his watch and grabbed something to eat quick before sitting down at his computer to get some work done.

  
  
  
  


He is 23.

Standing outside a coffee shop waiting for his blind date to show up. It had been Bahorel, who seemed to know everyone, who’d set them up. Bahorel had thought a “change of pace” would do Grantaire good. Some how change of pace meant dating a guy instead of a girl.

True the break up with his girlfriend had been a little hard on him, mostly because of what she’d said on her way out the door. All things that he had always thought were true but had hoped that they weren’t. Bahorel told him that she was just a bitch and Joly and Bossuet had taken him drinking. Unfortunately, Bossuet ran into her on his way to get the drinks and it resulted in them leaving before Grantaire could catch sight of her. Looking back, she was kind of a bitch. She gave no thought to Grantaire’s self esteem issues, she stole money from him and tried to pay him back with unfeeling kisses. Hell, she even told him he was hopeless a few times.

But that was the past. It had been a month and Grantaire was over it. His friends had encouraged him to get back out there. So here he was. In the cold February weather. Waiting for a man he’d never met. Who was 10 minutes late.

A sinking fear came to Grantaire’s chest that the guy had shown up, then seen Grantaire and high tailed it out of there. It felt like an increasing pressure on his lungs as he looked around once again for this guy who’s name he could not remember. All he knew is that it sounded like a bear with 5 packs of chewing gum in it’s mouth.

“Excuse me, are you Grantaire?” Someone’s hand was on his shoulder and a soothing voice was berating his ear drums. Grantaire turned to see what looked like an angel. Despite the overcast, Grantaire could have sworn that this man had a halo around his head, and not just from his gorgeous golden locks.

He realizes that he's staring and shakes his head to make himself focus.

"Yeah, Grantaire, nice to meet you." He sticks out his hand and feels as if he's committing a crime by touching this mans skin.

"Enjolras, same, so coffee?" He gestured somewhat awkwardly to the shop behind them.

"Right."

They went in and ordered and Grantaire took stock of all his worries at the moment, something Joly had taught him to do for anxiety. The first one was that this breathtakingly gorgeous guy found him completely and utterly disgusting. The second one was that all this beauty was just a cover for a horrid personality. His girlfriend had been amazingly attractive, and everyone knew how well that ended. His final worry was that him and this guy would have nothing in common. If this moment only made him worry about three things, then he was doing pretty good.

"So, Bahorel told me that you just got out of a relationship."  Enjolras said as they waited for their order.

Grantaire panicked. Everyone knew you weren't supposed to talk about your ex's until at least the 10th date or maybe never, and now Enjolras was asking him about ex's on the first fucking date. Shit. Grantaire responded with his best mechanism.

"Wow, that's pretty forward, you could at least buy me dinner first." The joke wasn't as good out loud as it had sounded in his head, and quickly tried to recover with some seriousness.  

"Um, yeah, my girlfriend broke up with me. It wasn't pretty." Grantaire's eyes shifted to the floor, fearful of looking in this mans eyes.

"Oh, I didn't know you were bi." Enjolras seemed to feel just as awkward. What Grantaire didn't know was that internally, Enjolras kicked himself the moment he'd asked about the breakup. How could he be so stupid as to scare this guy away.

"Yeah, a lot of people are kind of afraid of bisexuals, but I promise I wouldn't cheat on you. Not with a face like this." _Jesus fucking Christ Grantaire_ , his common sense was screaming at him inside, _get your shit together_.

Enjolras was a bit bothered by talk of cheating on the first date, but he shook it off. _Now is a perfect opportunity to scare him away with a political rant_ , the impulsive ass inside him said.

"I think bisexuals should be treated just as fairly as everyone else. In fact I think bisexual people may currently be treated worse, especially if you look at the lack of open representation. There are characters who sleep with both genders freely but are still described as gay or straight..."

Enjolras felt his mouth still moving as it recited a speech that he'd given hundreds of times. Meanwhile his brain was focusing in on every detail of Grantaire's expression. He certainly wasn't good looking in a conventional sense. His eyebrows were uneven, but only by the tiniest bit and it was actually kind of better looking than even eyebrows would be. His nose would probably have been attractive on any other face, but it was unfortunately on Grantaire's. His lips were full but not very red and they looked as though they'd been chewed on for years, and there was no way of knowing that they hadn't. Grantaire's face was odd. It was like someone grabbed pretty parts of people who are pretty in different ways and shoved them all together. Had it just been his nose of his eyes or his jaw, he would have been attractive. But together all these things clashed.

"Um, sorry." Enjolras blushed and took his drink from the counter, walking them over to a table.

"No, it's fine, I like hearing people talk about politics and society." Grantaire shrugged a bit, which was far too casual for what he was feeling. "More accurately I like arguing with people about politics and society.

In all honesty, watching Enjolras go onto a tangent was like watching Michael Angelo paint. The passion in Enjolras's eyes shone brighter than even the sun. He strung words together beautifully, creating a work of art in mere seconds.

Enjolras smiled at him and nodded.

"Glad to have you around then. I can always use a debate opponent."

Grantaire smiled back. Then they fell into an awkward silence. It was really neither of their faults, they just both had nothing truly interesting to talk about. Finally Enjolras found a small talk topic tucked away in his brain.

"So what do you do for a living?" He asked over a sip of his coffee.

"I'm an artist by trade and an office assistant by necessity."

"What kind of artist?"

Grantaire thought for a moment. He didn't know exactly how to describe himself. He knew that he wasn't one to draw comics, and that he didn't have a hand for sculpting, but he'd never thought as himself as just one kind of artist.

"I'm a painter, I guess." Grantaire replied.

"You guess?" Enjolras's eyebrow ticked up and Grantaire felt that look shoot straight down his spine.

He shrugged.

"Well, I'd love to see your work sometime." Enjolras said cheerfully. "So you're also an office assistant?"

Grantaire nodded stiffly. "Yup, at Thatcher and Broker. It's this publication place or something. They have a lot of big name magazines under them and I think we just published an encyclopedia set. So what about you?"

Enjolras straightened up his back and looked nearly as passionate as when he was arguing about something.

"I'm currently trying to get into the political field. Right now I'm just an intern in this guy's campaign, but I'm hoping someday to be in his shoes."

Grantaire let out a low whistle. "Those are some big dreams."

"I know," Enjolras responded. "But I need to make a difference in this world. One way or another. This way just seemed more effective."

Grantaire nodded coolly as he finished his drink. They both stood up to throw their cups in the trash and as they were leaving, Enjolras turned to Grantaire.

"So, when do you want to go out again?"

Grantaire's eye grew wide. With how disastrous that date started, he was surprised that a sequel was proposed. Still he had to jump at the chance of getting to see this guy again.

"Um, Bahorel's having a party Friday. If you wanted to go together?" Grantaire felt awkward asking about going out, but then again, he always did.

"Uh sure, I'll see you there?" Enjolras was pulling his keys out of his pocket and about to step into a parking garage.

"Sure." Grantaire nodded and they said their goodbyes as they headed in different directions.

As he walked back to his apartment, Grantaire couldn't help smiling to himself like an idiot. This was the best he'd felt in a month, and for once he'd been able to completely forget about his ex-girlfriend while he was with someone else.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras fucked up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get mildly violent but it's not anything Bahorel wouldn't do.

He is 37.

His computer just crashed. Now he has to reload everything including the file he was in the middle of working on.

"Shit." His phone rang in his pocket and he checked the caller ID. He took a deep sigh and braced himself.

"Hello?" He said into the receiver.

"Grantaire, I left my lunch at home." Enjolras's voice spouted out the speaker like broken water faucet casually pouring out moderate amounts of water.

"Jesus Christ, Enjolras." Grantaire replied, leaning back in his seat.

"I know, I know, you're working and all that..." Enjolras kept talking and Grantaire started.

"I don't have the time to tend to your every whim honestly you have no idea..."

They bickered at each other until Grantaire finally gave up and agreed to bring one of the Lean Cuisines that were getting freezer burnt.

"I'm on my way out." Grantaire said, getting up from his chair.

"Thank you." Enjolras replied coldly and hung up.

  
  
  
  


He's 26.

He just screwed up everything. He looks back at the nude man laying face down on the bed.

He still barely knew this guys name. Montparnasse. Just remembering it felt like betrayal.

He sighed and got up, putting his clothes back on. For only a brief moment, he thought about leaving his number. Then he reminded himself that this was only a one time thing.

Enjolras pulled his coat on and left the sparsely furnished apartment. This was not where he should be.

He should be at home with his boyfriend and they should be lazily cuddling in bed as the sun fights its way through the blinds. He should be making breakfast for himself. He should be pulling Grantaire into a kiss as he tries to make his own breakfast. He just shouldn't be here.

But Montparnasse.

He was a drug. Like the cocaine of sexual partners, Montparnasse gave him intensity and energy and had brought him home after only one shot.

Maybe if it had been more than one shot and he could say that his judgment was impared it wouldn't be so bad. But he knew what he was doing when he came home with Montparnasse. He knew what he was doing when they were tearing each other's clothes off.

He walked home, not wanting any evidence anywhere that he had been to this apartment complex.

When he came inside he could hear movement in the kitchen and the radio blasting the latest hits. Grantaire was humming along as he scrambled a couple of eggs. Enjolras took his jacket off and put it on the back of a chair.

“Where were you last night?” Grantaire asks without any hint of accusation in his voice. He doesn’t look up from the pan but he does turn his head in Enjolras’s direction.

“Um, ‘ferre’s.” Enjolras blurts. He had fought with himself the whole walk home about whether or not to tell Grantaire. In the end he decided on no, because if Grantaire knew he would only worry that Enjolras didn’t love him anymore. Which wasn’t true in the least bit. He’d just made a mistake.

“Oh? How was your little sleep over?” Grantaire sat across from him at the table, passing over a plate of eggs.

“Good, good. I just came home to get a few things, then I was going to go back over there.”

“Work stuff?” Grantaire asked. The frown on his face proved that he didn’t want Enjolras to leave, but the more Enjolras looked at his face, the more he couldn’t live with himself.

“Uh, yeah.” Enjolras got up and grabbed a few things that looked like they might be useful if he were actually going to do work and left the apartment without a word.

Combeferre opened the door still in his pajamas and looking kind of drowsy. If it were any other crisis, Enjolras would leave him be and come back later, but he had a deep needing inside to let everything out, and Combeferre was the best person for that.

“Enjolras? I thought the meeting was tomorrow?” Combeferre looked confused, but the truth is that he would never lose track of something so important. He already knew that Enjolras has something serious and important to tell him.

“I cheated.” Enjolras blurted.

Combeferre gave him a weary look. “On your finals? 4 years ago?”

“On Grantaire.” Enjolras’s throat was starting to tighten and he could feel the first sob building inside of him.

Combeferre pulled Enjolras’s inside, locking the door behind them in case anyone else wanted to make a surprise visit. Enjolras helped himself to Combeferre’s couch and put his face in his hands.

“What happened?” Combeferre sat next to him, not judging, not scolding, just understanding that this was tearing Enjolras up inside.

“I don’t know, I went to the bar to hand out pamphlets and this guy just shows up and he offered me a drink and before I knew it we were back at his place and… Fuck.” Enjolras let his tears run freely down his face. There was really nothing left for him to do to stop it them, and his throat is sore for lasting so long without crying.

“Wait, were you drunk?” Combeferre put his hand gently on Enjolras’s back.

“No, I’d only had one shot… God I wish I could go back and stop myself. I feel like shit.” Enjorlas turned into Combeferre, crying into his shoulder. Combeferre rubbed his back soothingly for a while, letting him get a good cry in before pressing more questions.

“Have you told Grantaire?”

“Hell fucking no.” Enjolras pulled away from Combeferre. “He’d be devastated. You know how bad his self-esteem was before we met, this would make things even worse than that. He’d think I was only staying with him out of pity. He’d think I don’t want him anymore.”

“Do you?”

Enjolras looked taken aback. How could Combeferre ask that when he was sitting there watching Enjolras freak out and worry about losing Grantaire.

“Of course I want him,’Ferre. I want to be with him for the rest of my life and hold him while we sleep every single night and keep little heart emoji’s by his name in my phone and know that he has the same thing on his phone. Of course I want him to be with me forever. I love him.”

Combeferre thought for a long time, looking at Enjolras with his eyebrows scrunched and his eyes narrowed.

“You need to tell him.” Combeferre said. Enjolras simply responded with a nod.

A week had passed since the incident, and Enjolras still hadn’t told Grantaire. He was going to, he swore up and down to himself that he was going to. But he didn’t know how or when to say it. Combeferre didn’t ask, but he could tell by the way Grantaire was acting that the beans hadn’t been spilled yet.

And then one day everything was ruined. Enjolras was sitting with Combeferre and Courfeyrac, talking about their plans and Grantaire was sitting with Bossuet and Bahorel (Joly had a shift at the hospital) but they were still in sight of each other the whole time.

In an instant Enjolras glanced up to look at Grantaire, and found himself with an eye full of Montparnasse. Montparnasse happened to look his way and make eye contact, meaning there was no way he was going to not talk to him.

Enjolras kept his head down, but Montparnasse walked up to his table.

“Hey there,” He leaned over the table and winked. “You kind of left me hanging last week.”

Courfeyrac looked on with a confused expression, glancing back and forth between the two men and Combeferre, who’d crossed his arms and was looking pissed as hell. Across the room, Grantaire had noticed the elegant stranger enter, and he was analysing whether or not he was flirting with his boyfriend or not.

“There was a reason for that.” Enjolras said, trying not to look Montparnasse in the eye.

Montparnasse opened his mouth to respond, when he was interrupted by Combeferre.

“I think you should leave.”

Montparnasse sneered. “You have no fucking business with us, so just leave it.”

Enjolras couldn’t take anymore and he stood, his jaw tight and his fists clenching. His face was matched by Montparnasse’s, their noses only hairs apart and their eyes burning with a kind of anger. Grantaire stood up, preparing to walk over and see what the trouble was.

“I think you need to leave. Now.” Enjolras spoke through clenched teeth.

Montparnasse’s eyes flashed down to Enjolras’s lips and he smiled. “I don’t think you want that though.”

Enjolras scowled in return, his eyes narrowing and his fingernails digging lines into his palms. Montparnasse continued smiling, then brought his hands up to Enjolras’s face and kissed him hard.

There was a shout of hey and Montparnasse was pulled away from Enjolras by the shoulder. A fist collided with his face and he doubled over away from his attacker, holding a now bloody nose.

“What the fuck!?!” He screamed nasally, looking back to see Grantaire glaring down at him. Grantaire looked ready to hit him again, but Enjolras’s arm went across his boyfriend’s chest, holding him back.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Grantaire yelled, fighting against Enjolras’s grip. “Kissing my fucking boyfriend?”

Montparnasse turned his hateful gaze to Enjolras, which seemed to make Grantaire calm down. But for all the wrong reasons.

“You have a _boyfriend?_ ” Montparnasse spat at Enjolras, who couldn’t make his mouth form words.

Grantaire had stopped fighting the grip keeping him from advancing. For an instant he became aware that everyone was looking at them, but that instant passed and all he could think of was that he hoped it wasn’t true. He hopped that Montparnasse was the liar he’d always been. He hoped that his assumption was false.

“You’ve got real problems, asshole.” Montparnasse was more upset that his nose was probably broken, but there was still a good chunk of anger over being ‘the other woman’. “Why couldn’t you just fuck your boyfriend, instead of getting other people involve in your issues? Fuck you.”

Montparnasse spat at Enjolras’s shoes and walked out, nursing the bloody nose Grantaire had given him. The silence left behind was unbearable to everyone, but more than anyone to Enjolras.

He turned his eyes to Grantaire, still wrapped in his arms. Normally he would love this position, but right now it felt wrong.

“Grantaire…” Enjolras whispered, trying to be discrete despite the dramatic display that had all eyes on them. Grantaire jerked his way out of Enjolras’s hold, staring at the floor and trying to get the thoughts in his head together enough to say something. He was desperately fighting the need to cry, and the easiest way to do that was to get angry.

Grantaire lifted his chin, not looking anyone in the eye as he strode out of the Musain with as much pride as he had left. Enjolras followed, and Bahorel and Bossuet tried to go after them but Combeferre called them back.

“He needs this.” Combeferre said, and no one was quite sure who he was talking about. Not even Combeferre.

It was cold outside, there was snow on the ground right next to the wall that Grantaire was currently taking his anger out on. Enjolras stood out of sight, not wanting to become the receiving end of those punches. Even if he did deserve it.

Eventually Grantaire stopped punching the wall, his knuckles bloody and bruised for the abuse. He took a few deep breaths, not wanting the tears on his face to be betrayed in his voice.

“How long?” he mumbled, testing the waters for telling signs in his voice that he was crying.

“Grantaire, I can explain-”

“How fucking long!?!?” Grantaire yelled, turning to Enjolras. The anger and pain in his face out weighed the tears.

“It was one time. A week ago.” Enjolras tried to speak calmly. He didn’t know why it was so hard to be calm in this situation when it was so easy for him to keep his cool in front of hundreds of yelling, cheering people. Maybe it was because those people were just members of a crowd and this was Grantaire.

“You didn’t tell me?” Grantaire’s voice was filled with accusation.

“I was going to… I just, didn’t know how.”

“You didn’t know how…” Grantaire’s demeanor changed. He was once again his laughing, sarcastic self. Yet with just the hint of darkness to come. “You didn’t know how to tell me you cheated on me. You didn’t know how to tell me you cheated on me _with fucking Montparnasse._ ”

Grantaire took a few breaths. “It was that day you said you’d spent the night at ‘ferre’s, wasn’t it?”

Enjolras didn’t answer, but the look on his face said it all.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Enjolras. I made you fucking breakfast. I did your laundry. And what about Combeferre? Did you let him on your moral lapse? Did you have him fucking _lie for you_?”

The more Grantaire went on the more upset Enjolras became. By the last question he was fully crying, shoving his hands in his face as if he were keeping pressure on a wound.

“Please, Grantaire. _Please_.” Enjolras pleaded, his voice muffled by his jacket.

Grantaire turned halfway away from Enjolras, trying to think of anything more he needed to say. He listened to Enjolras’s sobs for a while, aware that this man he loved so much was suffering over his own mistake. But Grantaire was suffering too, but in different ways.

“Do you even want me anymore?” The words were bitter on his tongue but somehow felt inevitable.

Enjolras couldn’t take it anymore. He dropped to his knees and sobbed into Grantaire’s jeans.

“I do. Grantaire, I do want you. I’m in love with you and I wouldn’t want anyone else.”

Grantaire glanced at Enjolras then shook his head to himself.

“You wanted him.”

He walked away. 


	3. Chapter 3

He’s 37.

The freeway is jammed and his car has no air conditioning and it’s hot as hell and there’s nothing good on the radio. He glances at the passenger seat of the car where the microwave dinner is probably slowly melting in it’s box.

Grantaire lights a cigarette, knowing that Enjolras doesn’t like the car to smell like smoke but not particularly caring at this moment in time. With cigarette between lips and chair tipped back just so, Grantaire tries to relax and enjoy the moment alone. He always preferred being in cars than being anywhere else, although the ideal car was one that was running. Now he could sit back and listen to the garbage of the latest hits and enjoy not having to worry about showing affection for another person.

He looks at the ring on his finger for a while, contemplating it’s symbolism. Ht works it off his hand, finding that the skin underneath had turned green. He sighed and put the ring in the small receptacle for quarters just below the radio and turned the radio off.

A motorcycle came to a stop next to him, it’s motor spluttering as the driver switched off in preparation for the long wait ahead. The driver and the passenger were a young couple, the young woman in the back clinging on to him as if they were going 60 miles per hour.

He grabbed her hands in his and rubbed her fingers, which seemed to have become stiff in clutching his jacket so hard. Faint laughter came in through the windows as he whispered some joke to her about how holding on too tight can make your fingers fall off.

  
  


 

He’s 29.

He’s sleeping in the same bed as the man who cheated on him 3 years ago. A pair of hands are clutching tightly to his shirt while the body attached to them sleeps. Grantaire finds his grip endearing.

It had taken a year before he was willing to start over with Enjolras, and now they’d moved back in together. He knew he was stupid for taking him back, but Enjolras was a drug that had no rehab center or support groups. Enjolras was as addictive as the air he breathed, making it feel like it was physically impossible not to be with him.

Since the break up, Enjolras had become a hair more possessive. Or maybe affectionate was the word for it. Some would call it desperate.

He’d started sitting with Grantaire whenever the business ends of meeting were over, and he seemed to want to be touching Grantaire in some way.

Grantaire didn’t mind a whole lot until he wanted to go to the grocery store and Enjolras had jumped up saying “Give me a minute to get dressed and I’ll go with you.” That was when Grantaire had told him he needed to relax and Enjolras had started crying saying he didn’t want to lose Grantaire again.

Now, as much as Grantaire loved to feel wanted, he was hot and uncomfortable under Enjolras’s arm and really needed to get a drink. He carefully pulled his shirt off, leaving Enjolras to grip empty fabric.

He got up and stumbled to the bathroom, still groggy from sleep. He filled the glass by the sink with water and swallowed it all quickly. For a little while he looked himself in the mirror, rubbing the scruff on his chin and neck. He stretched his neck and looked thoughtfully at the glass on the countertop.

Arms wrapped around his chest and Enjolras’s chin rests on his shoulder. He looks at them in the mirror, him with his dopey eyes and scruffy look and Enjolras with his high cheek bones and flawless skin. To Grantaire, they looked like two pages of two books in completely different languages. Enjolras was a book of Shakespearean sonnets and Grantaire was a computer manual.

Enjolras kissed his neck and rested his forehead against his temple. A deep breath was let out against Grantaire’s skin.

“Come back to bed.” Enjolras said, his eyelashes brushing Grantaire’s ear.

Grantaire nodded slightly. “I’ll be right there.”

Before he left, Enjolras ran his tongue up the muscle connecting Grantaire’s shoulder to his ear. Grantaire shivered and turned to watched Enjolras walk back to bed.

  
  
  


He’s 37.

He gets home earlier than he had planned. One side of him hopes that he’ll find something unexpected at home. But when he gets home he finds Grantaire sitting on the couch with a book and looking exactly the way he did everyday when he came home.

“You’re home early.” Grantaire says after only looking up at Enjolras once. Enjolras shurgs and gunts.

“I didn’t make dinner for you. Sorry.” And that’s the last Grantaire says to him for the next 5 hours.

  
  
  


He’s 31.

He’s wearing a suit and pulling at the sleeves of his shirt. Grantaire’s late and he doesn’t know how he should feel about that.

Finally he sees a familiar face coming towards him with his hair slicked back and his face freshly shaven. Enjolras’s heart beats hard in his chest because hot damn. He puts his least nervous smile on his face and kisses Grantaire once he’s close enough.

“So, what was so important that I had to get dressed nice and in this suit.” Grantaire complained, but in a loveable way.

“Just follow me, dork.” Enjolras smiled and lead them into the hotel, past a hostess and to a small, private, candle-lit table.

Grantaire looked sideways at Enjolras before taking a seat. Once Enjolras was in his seat, a waiter appeared and took their orders. Everything on the menu was expensive, which told Grantaire that portions would be tiny yet delicious.

“So, now will you tell me?” Grantaire asked with a laugh as the waiter took their menus.

“Alright. Well.” Enjolras took a deep breath. “I got that promotion.”

Grantaire’s smile grew from a sly little sideways thing to a genuine, massive, beaming, grin. He leans over the table and kisses Enjolras hard.

“That’s wonderful! I’m so happy for you. We should drink.” Grantaire called for the waiter.

“‘taire are you-”

“What is your most expensive wine?”

“A 1909, it’s $950”

“We will have whatever wine costs $50 or less.” Grantaire nods the waiter off, a laugh coming to his throat.

“Grantaire, are you sure you want to be drinking?” Enjolras’s face is full of concern, and if Grantaire weren’t so happy for him and if he didn’t love him so much, he would get mad at Enjolras for babying him. But now was not the time. Instead he put his hand over Enjolras’s.

“I’ll be fine. Besides, it’s drinking for a noble cause.”

That night after they’ve blissed each other out with enough sex to make a grandmother weep, Enjolras is pressing a kiss to Grantaire’s nose. They could spend hours tangled up in each other, barely speaking, never moving, just enjoying the feel of their skin together.

“You know, I think I have some chocolate in my coat pocket.” Enjolras jokes after hearing Grantaires stomach rumbling.

“Thank god.” Grantaire puffs out, breaking the embrace. He crawls over to the end of the bed where the jacket in question had been cast. Enjolras followed, resting on Grantaire’s back with his mouth pressed to his shoulder. Grantaire eats the chocolate quickly, like he hadn’t eaten for hours. Although he could stand to argue that their dinner was not a full meal.

“Marry me.” Enjolras says out of the blue, his cheek absorbing the heat of Grantaire’s skin up until Grantaire turns halfway over.

“What?” His eyes are wide and Enjolras can’t quite tell if it’s in fear, surprise, excitement, or some mix of all three.

“Let’s get married.” Enjolras says with as much passion and excitement as he would if he were delivering a speech as a presidential candidate. Maybe even more.

“Enjolras-” Grantaire starts, interrupted by a kiss.

“I want you, Grantaire.” Another kiss. “Forever.” Another kiss. “And I want everyone to know.” One final kiss. “I want to be with you forever.”

Grantaire falls back on his back, letting out a sigh. He can’t really argue with that logic.

“Ok.”

“The proper answer is yes.” Enjolras grins.

“Yes, you little shit, I want to marry you.” Grantaire laughs and rolls over onto Enjolras, kissign him hard.

  
  


 

 

 

They’re 37 and getting ready for bed.

Grantaire is brushing his teeth while Enjolras is already laying in bed. When he comes in, he gets under the covers and kisses Enjolras chastely before turning out the lamp by his bed.

For a moment, he sits up, looking down at Enjolras who’s lit by the weak streetlights outside. For a moment, he wants to kiss him and go at it like animals like they had been years ago. For a moment, all these thoughts happen, but in the next moment they’re gone and Enjolras has turned over so his back is to him.

Grantaire faces the opposite direction, drifting uneasily into sleep. 


End file.
